911
by N'AWLINS
Summary: An AU fic set with the events of 9/11 as a backdrop. Starring two Remy and Rogue-like characters. This deals with mature emotional issues, so only read if you are prepared to re-live the events of 9/11/01 in detail.


this story was my attempt to deal with the events of 9/11. even as i read it, i feel the same sick sadness that i felt on that day. so, i hope you will be as touched reading this as i was writing it.  
and GOD BLESS AMERICA!!!  
  
N'AWLINS  
  
THE LIKENESSES OF ROUGUE AND GAMBIT/REMY LEBEAU ARE PROPERTY OF MARVEL COMICS. I AM IN NO WAY MAMING ANY PERSONAL PROFIT FROM THIS.  
  
  
  
911  
It was a beautiful morning. The cool, crisp autumn air was wonderfully refreshing. For 25 year old Rio, this morning was also exciting. She was flying for the first time.  
Rio was an amazingly good-looking woman, but she liked to down-play that fact, never wearing anything too tight or showy. Her eyes were a deep emerald, and her hair was a luxorious auburn shade. She kept it cut to shoulder length. Her response to her fiancee's complaints about her modest style: "Now, ya'll don't want me ta look like a hooker, do ya?"   
"Yeah, sugah . . . I'm fine . . . Ah love you too . . . Alright . . . See ya at the airport"  
The woman sitting next to Rio turned to stare.  
"That was mah fiancee. He made me promise ta call him as soon as we were in the air." Rio rolled her eyes in mock exasperation.  
"He's always so worried about the little things. But, Ah guess it's better than him not carin' at all." She sighed, thinking of the man she was on her way to be with. She couldn't wait to see him. It'd been so lonely around the apartment ever since he took that job in New York last month.  
****  
The early hours of 9/11/01 had been slow, with only a few calls for assistance. The others had jumped at the opportunity for some action, even if it meant rescuing someone's cat from a mangy dog. That left Remy playing solitaire at the station.  
Remy was what most women would have described as "drool-worthy". His features were sharp, and his eyes were of the most piercing brown, but at times they shone with an eerie reddish tint. His hair reached just above his shoulders, and was also a reddish-brown. He'd had worn it longer before he met Rio, but she insisted it made him look "skanky". Remy quite liked the change in his looks after the cut.  
He was about to cheat again, when his cell phone rang.  
"Good. You didn' forget . . . Jus be careful . . . Love you, Chere . . . A'ight . . . Oui, I be dere waitin for you."  
Remy smiled to himself as he hung up, "De most amazing woman in de world, an' she's on her way ta see moi."  
****  
"Ma'm, would you like something to drink?"  
"Why, thank you. Hmmm . . . Ah'll just have a Sprite with some ice."  
"Enjoy your trip."  
"Ah do believe Ah will."  
Rio sipped the fizzy beverage gratefully. For some reason unknown to her, her throat had be come increasingly dry as the plane neared it's destination.  
****  
  
The alarm sounded suddenly, bellowing out its warning at a higher pitch than normal.  
"Mon dieu! What's happened?!" The boss was more than eager to answer his question.  
"LeBeau! A plane's just hit the World Trade Center! You go ahead, they'll need all the help they can get! I'll send the others straight away when they get back! . . . Don't just stand there like a rookie!! MOVE!! This is serious!"  
Remy raced to the garages and grabbed his jacket, remembering to retrieve his cell on the way.  
****  
'Wow, for mah first time flying, this has been a breeze. So far, there's been no reason ta worry, the weather even seems ta be agreein' with me.'  
Gazing out the window, Rio was lost in thoughts of her future: She and Remy would be so happy, she was sure. And they'd be living in a nice little apartment in the suburbs of New York. She could already imagine the day they got their first house, maybe even had their first child. She loved Remy more than anything in the world, and that thought made her certain she was marrying the right man.  
****  
  
Even with the situation at hand, Remy's thoughts drifted to Rio: it was her first time flying, and he was still a little worried about her, despite her cheery attitude on the phone.  
As the truck neared the Trade Center building, Remy gasped. 'Dis has to be some sort of special effect . . . dis can' be real . . .' On one side of the Trade Center, near the top, a huge explosion had erupted. Smoke poured from the gaping hole, and flames shot out periodically. That's when it hit Remy. The realization that there were actual people in there, people with families, people with children, people with husbands, people with wives . . . With no time to recover from the initial shock, Remy was met with an equally horrifying sight: people were jumping. Bodies plummeted to earth, and hit with sickening force. The streets directly beneath the Twin Towers were red, the color of the blood of the jumpers, the people who could see no other way out, and decided to end it themselves, rather than be engulfed by the smoke and flames.  
'In all de years of trainin, tryin to make us numb as possible, never have I seen anyt'ing dis bad. I don' know if I can do dis . . . No. I have to do dis, for dose who are already dead, for de families of dose who have managed to survive dis far.'  
"LeBeau . . .," the voice of his superior had lost its hard edge and was now shaking. "We have to get down there . . . see if there are any survivors . . . and . . . recover the bodies . . ."  
Remy forced himself to move, nod in acknowledgment of the command. He placed the mask over his head, and began the walk towards the scene of mass panic that lay ahead of him.  
  
****  
'Ah wonder what's up in the cockpit. Those flight attendants seem to be getting more and more somber as we go. Well, this is their job, and that means that they're on one of these planes every day. Not everyone here can be excited as I am.'  
Some rows behind Rio, two men spoke in rushed whispers. Every minute or so, one of them would sneak a quick glance at the city they were approaching. The other would check the time on his watch. Whatever the reason, their periodic checks were becoming more frequent.  
  
****  
  
Citizens rushed past Remy, many screaming at the top of their lungs, but some just sobbing quietly. He began to see that he appeared to be the only one heading towards the building. Again, Remy told himself that he was doing this for the victims, and that meant he couldn't turn back.  
As Remy neared the Trade Center, the crowd thinned, and he saw that he was not the first to reach the scene. Masses of uniformed workers were already digging through the rubble, alongside civilians covered in ash, who'd dropped what tasks had previously occupied them, and joined the effort to decrease the final death toll.  
As a rescue worker, it was also Remy's job to sift throught the debris. He was thankful for the fact that he had not taken the job of firemean, which would have required him to actually enter the hell contained in the national landmark that lay in a heap before him.  
  
****  
  
By this time, the news of the collision had reached Rio's flight. The majority of passengers now wore looks of horror on their faces. Some had begun to cry. Others still were in a panic, overwhelmed with worry for loved ones near the scene. Rio's reaction fell into the category of worry:  
'Oh mah Gawd. Ah hope Remy isn't down there. But if he is, Ah suppose that means he's the savior, not the victim. Still, Ah can't help but worry.'  
While the mood of the flight dramatically shifted, two men in black rose from their seats.  
  
****  
  
"You, over to the north side! We're short on men over there."  
Remy was glad to be taking orders from anyone, he felt as if he were in some sort of trance, which had set him moving mechanically.  
The scene playing out before him didn't seem real anymore, like some sort of sick movie. At least it helped him to function, use his brain solely, and shut off all connections to his heart.  
Remy trudged over to the north side, and began his dig through the remains of a tower that had once stood so tall and grand, a sign of America's pride and financial power. The smoke began to make his eyes water, and he tightened the straps on his mask. The mask was of the highest quality, only the best was given to the rescue teams. Tears coursed down his cheeks, but the billowing smoke was not the cause.  
'What was dat?' Remy paused his digging, and listened intently. He could swear he'd heard a voice, calling out for help. It wasn't his responsibility, but no one else had seemed to hear the cry. Remy climbed his way throught the piles, entering the partially collapsed tower. He paused once more, hoping to hear the call again. He heard nothing. Remy continued to search, going deeper and deeper into the tower, until he had reached the very heart of the building. If only he could be sure of what he'd heard.  
  
****  
  
'Ah wonder if Remy has his cell phone with him. Then at least Ah could make sure he was okay.' Rio had repeatedly told herself that everything was fine, and she had no reason to worry about Remy, but she just couldn't reassure herself. She decided to prove to herself that her upset was without reason, and call him.  
The men had now reached the door to the cockpit, they turned to each other, nodded, and spoke an un-recognizable phrase. They then entered the cockpit.  
One sharp scream shot through the plane. As soon as it started, the scream was cut off.  
"Oh lawd." Rio dialed Remy's number as fast as she could. She now understood what was taking place: the first plane that hit the tower was not to be the last.  
  
****  
  
Remy's cell rang, breaking the silence.  
"Hello?"  
"Remy? Oh good, your alright."  
"Rio? Are you okay?"  
"Well, Ah don't think so."  
"What do ya mean?"  
"The plane that hit the towers . . . it isn't going to be the only one."  
"You're sayin' dat dere's gonna be more?"  
"Yes."  
"How do ya know dis?"  
"Remy, I think mah plane's bein' high-jacked."  
". . ."  
"Remy? Ya still there?"  
"I . . . I t'ink so."  
"It's okay. Listen to me, Remy. It's gonna be okay."  
"Not with you on dat plane."  
"Maybe there's a way, maybe the scream Ah heard wasn't the pilot."  
"Dis is all wrong."  
"Ah know, we were supposed to be happy. We were supposed to start a life together."  
"Whoever dose bastards are dat started dis--"  
"Remy, stop. This isn't the time for that. Let's just make the best of the time we have left."  
"Dere's supposed to be years left, our time is supposed to have jus' started!"  
"Ah know, Ah know, sugah."  
"God, I love you, Rio."  
"Ah love you too. Remy. Ya just remember that."  
"Oui. I will. Dere ain't no way I'd ever forget ya, Chere."  
"Ah'll be waitin' for ya in heaven."  
"Dat day couldn't come a moment too soon."  
A deafening silence fell over their last conversation. Suddenly, a shout could be heard over the line.  
"Oh no."  
"Rio, you jus' concentrate on my voice."  
"Ah . . . Ah'll try."  
"Remember when we first met? Remember how we never even went to a movie, we jus' talked?"   
"Yeah, Ah loved those times. We had nothing to worry about, we were just together."  
"Like we are now. Maybe not in person, but I hope ya know dat I'm right dere wit' ya."  
"Ah do--"  
  
In the next moment, everything seemed to happen at once:  
"Ah love you, Remy."  
"I love you, Rio."  
The second plane hit.  
And the tower collapsed.  
  
  
  
"Daddy!! The news people are back on!!"  
"Alright, honey, I'm coming."  
"Hurry!! They're talkin' about all the people that got hurt yesterday!"  
  
". . . and now, a moment of silence honoring the victims of yesterday's attack: those on the high-jacked flights, the employees of the Twin Towers, and the heroes: the rescue workers, the policemen, the doctors, and the firemen."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
And the world went on.  
  
  
This was written in honor of the victims of the events of 9/11/01.   
  
  
  
I had no idea that writing this would be as emotionally difficult as it turned out to be, seeing 9/11 from the eyes of those who were actually there, and felt firsthand, the terror that had gripped the nation, and would hold us within its grip for days to come. But, Americans proved themselves once again, by uniting against this terrible force, standing up to say, "We won't tollerate this, you cannot hope to frighten such a nation in to submission. If anything, you have strenghened our resolve to never give up, and put evil to an end."  
No one can know what you felt in those hours, but by writing this from the perspective of two victims, in different situations, I hope to come close.   
N'AWLINS 


End file.
